Letters on Miscellaneous and Domestic Subjects: Intended for the Use of the Writer's Family, and a Few Select Friends

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J. Moyes, Greville street., 1823 - 384 pàgines

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Pàgina 366 - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud, Without our special wonder...
Pàgina 337 - From his cradle, He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ; But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
Pàgina 380 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Pàgina 362 - Here will I hold. If there's a power above us (And that there is, all Nature cries aloud Through all her works), he must delight in virtue ; And that which he delights in must be happy.
Pàgina 288 - O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
Pàgina 244 - ... accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Pàgina 308 - If a man does not make new acquaintances as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, sir, should keep his friendship in constant repair.
Pàgina 281 - The poor beetle, which we tread upon, In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Pàgina 333 - O God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea! and, other times, to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors!
Pàgina 259 - Farewell, great painter of mankind, Who reach'd the noblest point of art; Whose pictur'd morals charm the mind, And through the eye correct the heart ! If genius fire thee, reader, stay ; If nature touch thee, drop a tear : — If neither move thee, turn away, For Hogarth's honour'd dust lies here.

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